|Definitely Not PST|
Okay, so to put this post into context, much of these mixed up feelings are to do with the sudden fall of something (I've not discovered what yet) last night from a shelf which landed with a thump that woke me up at 2:30, and then I couldn't fall asleep again until 4:30 by which point I was pissed off with the state of the world, and generally angry with myself for not having more foresight to batten down the fucking hatches and just dive deep into the calm waters of the fucking Mariana Trench to look at fucking hot water spring algae and blind worms lolly-gagging in the dark. Oh, if only it were that easy to just lock everything down and just put your head in water and breathe out. If only.
|So cold we became transparent|
Maybe I felt like vomiting for other reasons. Perhaps like Elizabeth, I'm pregnant - well, what of it, I could publish in Nature then
Circles - they come and go, but one thing they have in command. They come around again. Especially when the said circles are mythical circles (think "glass becomes air, air becomes glass") that are inked onto ankles, wrists and the back of the neck. Not just in black and white, but in glorious technicolour.
|So much for the Font of Vulnerability|
Speaking of which, I am 32! 32! not that age what some instructor, who spanked BK and then grabbed my hips, announced to the class at large. Bastard. Buh-loody bastard. Secrets, what secrets - they're all gone.
|Childlike Honesty, not Childish Honesty|
Ah. Now that makes sense. You're the teacher's pet in a way. And the state of Grace - assuming that it is bestowed
Miss. Mapp: "Sometimes, Miss Mapp grew positively weary of the world". Let's just replace that capital M with a Y, and there you have it.
Today - my immediate task is to cut 8 pages of text down to 4. The way my mind is thinking right now, this could result in a disastrously disorganized document, or it could be a work of inspiration.
|Completing the circle|
I feel like I should end this post with something positive, something that reaches out from the beginning to complete the circle but I'm really not in the mood. I want to sit and lolly gag like those blind worms by the hot springs down in the Marina trench and just flutter aimlessly around in the dark.
Oh damn. I just completed the circle(*). I just can't help myself, it seems.
Not, BK, the circle of sluts.